Idol's Idol
by rockstarpeach
Summary: AU. Andrew is an American Idol contestant, and the show gets a visit from Rupert Giles, Andrew's musical hero, and giant crush. Giles might take advantage, but he tries to be nice about it. Pr0n.


Title: Idol's Idol

Pairing: Andrew/Giles

Rating: Adult

Summary: AU. Written for the 'rock star' prompt at the LJ comm **rogue_slasher** . Andrew is an American Idol contestant, and Rupert Giles is a seasoned musician who visits the show, and who Andrew just happens to be heavily infatuated with.

***

Andrew Wells couldn't stand still. They were down to the final two… almost. Just one more guy and one more girl to let go tonight, and he was one of the poor idiots stuck in the wings and waiting for Lorne to tell them whether or not they were safe.

"Now let's all help me welcome Amy and Tara on to the stage," Lorne suggested, smiling at the audience and bringing his hands together, encouraging applause. "Ah, ladies," he sighed and smiled and opened his arms, folding them around the girls, pulling them in close.

"I know we all hate this part of the show, don't we?" he asked the crowd and the girls, sympathetically. "We have to say goodbye to one of you now…"

Andrew half watched as the host opened up the envelope in his hand, too excited, too nervous to really see or hear much of what was being said, but based on Amy's sad smile and Tara's excited jumping up and down he guessed that Tara had made it through to the final round.

_Poor Amy_, he vaguely thought, even though he knew that Tara was a thousand times more talented, and then he heard Xander's name, and his own, and walked out on the stage on shaky legs, holding Xander's hand, until they each took up their positions on either side of Lorne.

Again, he didn't really hear much, just nodded and grinned and mumbled what he hoped were halfway intelligent sounding answers to what he thought might have been questions that Lorne was asking him.

He was so close. He never would have thought that he'd be able to get even this far. Not that he didn't know he was good. He thought he was amazing. But because he was often quiet, and a little bit different, other people sometimes had trouble seeing that.

He saw Lorne pull another envelope out of his pocket and heard him pause in whatever it was he was rambling about, for dramatic effect of course, and after what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.

"And the second member of our final two, ladies and gentlemen, is none other than… the absolutely cute as a button Andrew Wells!"

Andrew couldn't breathe for a moment, and when air managed to fill his lungs again he screamed, jumped, wrapped his arms around Lorne and kissed him full on the mouth before doing the same to Xander, his celebratory cheers muffled by the sounds of approval coming from the audience.

It wasn't that he wanted to see Xander go, really. He wasn't really a very good singer, but he was cute, and sexy, and he was the only person in the competition that Andrew could talk to about Babylon 5 and Doctor Who. But, better Xander getting voted off than him. Andrew was going to be a star!

And more importantly, he was going to get a chance to meet _his_ idol. They'd met a few celebrities over the course of the show so far, but they were nothing for Andrew, not compared to the person they would get to spend time with tomorrow, and even if he didn't win the competition, it was all worth it, just to get to come face to face with the best musician he'd ever heard, and his biggest crush of all time.

***

"Oh, bugger," Rupert Giles mumbled to himself, finishing off the last of his glass of Scotch before standing up from his chair and shutting the television off.

Tara Maclay looked like a nice enough girl, and incredibly gifted, but for the love of God, Andrew Wells? How in the hell could that talentless hack have made it in to the final two? Irritating little shit. All the little gay boys must have been voting in droves, because Rupert could just see no other explanation for it. At least not one that didn't involve some sort of mass mind control, or magic.

Actually, he was thinking a spell might be more likely.

It wasn't as if he thought Xander Harris would have been a better choice; the only thing most of the so-called artists that made up the contestants on these shows had going for them was a pretty face, and the willingness to do just about anything they were told. Most of them couldn't sing, and he was fairly certain that none of them could write music, but the studio could work wonders these days, and labels were more interested in the package their product was delivered in, not in giving them any sort of creative licence.

He sighed, wandering over to the hotel room window and looking down on the city below. He shouldn't have agreed to this.

But he had agreed to it, and now he had to advise these kids, sit down with them, have dinner, talk to them, give them tips, answer their questions or some other bollocks. And why? Because he was being paid a fairly decent sum of money for the show to use his image.

He was a musician, a very successful one, once upon a time, and networks that were showcasing people that wanted to be successful liked to throw a little actual success in to the mix, to make things look less manufactured, and frankly, less pathetic. Give the show a little star power.

So next week the remaining contestants would be singing their choice of songs from 'The R. Giles Band's repertoire, and they wanted Mr. R. Giles himself there, to impart a little wisdom. And what a waste of time it would be, on that Andrew kid, at least.

There had been one contestant a while back who he wouldn't have minded… imparting some wisdom on, and yes that was a euphemism for 'bugger senseless', but of course, Lindsey McDonald had been sexy and talented and unique, and had been promptly voted off the show to leave room for people who better fit some sort of ridiculous mould.

But, Rupert's career was waning, and he couldn't really afford to turn down any publicity at this point, even if it annoyed the piss out of him. It was only one day, coach a couple of adolescents through a couple of songs, drink enough wine with dinner that he wouldn't notice how annoying they probably were and he'd be back home in a couple of days.

He could do this.

***

He'd done it. And it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be, except for parts in which Andrew opened his mouth.

Tara had actually been quite wonderful; polite, gentle, respectful... even funny and somewhat entertaining after she'd managed to loosen up a bit. She'd asked intelligent, relevant questions, showed significant promise, seemed to appreciate his advice, had a voice like an angel, and with a little bit of encouragement had been able to get quite into the song she'd chosen, and during their practice, had sung it almost as well as Rupert himself.

And then there was Andrew.

The kid was worse than he thought he would have been, worse than he looked on television, where Rupert supposed they edited the footage to show the boy at his least annoying, and considering how he looked on the show, that said a lot about how annoying he could be in person.

He'd surprised Rupert at first, by running up to him in the recording studio and wrapping his arms around him, squeezing him tight and babbling about how much he loved him and what a great honour it was to meet him. Rupert had been polite, of course, thanking the boy and disentangling himself, suggesting they get straight to the music.

And his desire to be out of arms reach of the kid, surprisingly, had very little to do with the hardness of Andrew's cock pressed up against his hip during the hug. It wasn't like it was the first time it had happened to him.

Then Andrew had surprised him even more by not being as completely horrible a singer as he'd originally thought, and after a series of inane requests for advice on his vocal stylings, and lovesick glances, he'd made it through the rehearsal without totally butchering the song.

During dinner Andrew had fallen over himself telling Rupert how amazing he was, how talented, how lucky he and Tara were to be meeting him. Gushed about how brilliant he was, and how beautiful and how this was the best day of his life as Tara and Rupert shared silent, secret snickers.

Andrew had had a little bit of champagne, though everyone knew he was too young, and he'd launched into a rather embarrassing story about how Rupert had been his first crush, and he'd had his very first orgasm when he was twelve years old, listening to one of his albums while jerking off to the photo on the sleeve.

Tara had laughed out loud, trying to hide her humour behind a bite of her meal, and Rupert had merely rolled his eyes and downed his entire glass of wine in one swallow, then cleared his throat and attempted to change the subject.

For the next hour Andrew had rambled, about anything and everything and nothing, desperate for Rupert's attention and not really caring what he had to say or do to get it. Rupert had tuned out after a while, smiling at him and pretending to listen, counting down the minutes until he was 'off duty' and could go back to his hotel room, alone, in peace.

He'd drunk almost a bottle and a half of wine over dinner, and when they were finished, he gave both of the contestants a brief hug, pointedly removing Andrew's roving hand when it landed on his backside, wished them luck, and climbed into his limousine, relaxing back into the seat as it took him to the hotel.

***

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

"Mr. Giles?" the voice came through the door. "It's Andrew. Andrew Wells? From American Idol? Remember me?"

Unfortunately he was in the same hotel the contestants were staying in.

He hit the mute button on the remote to turn the sound off the news and got up to answer the door. He was tempted not to, to just ignore it, but from what little he'd learnt of the kid over the past few hours, he wouldn't give up anytime soon, so it was best to just deal with him and get rid of him, as quickly as he could.

"Yes," he sighed, opening the door. "I just left you less than an hour ago, you silly little man. Of course I remember you."

"Oh," Andrew smiled, breathing a sigh if relief. He thought Mr. Giles would have remembered him, but he didn't want to assume anything. And Rupert Giles knew who he was!! How cool was that?! "Good."

"So..?" Rupert asked after a few seconds of Andrew grinning like an idiot. "What can I do for you, Andrew?" He waited another few seconds, internally rolling his eyes and resisting the urge to mop up the boy's drool, and prompted again. "Andrew?"

"Huh?" Andrew sputtered, shaking his head and refocusing. "Sorry. I…" He had been staring, eyes trailing down over Mr. Giles' chest, over the patch of skin and hair made bare by his open housecoat, loose and flowing. Staring at the once well defined muscles of his abdomen, now slightly padded by age and drink, but no less sexy for it, where his pyjama bottoms rode low on his hips, tempting Andrew to fall to his knees then and there.

"I just got distracted," Andrew finished lamely and looked back up.

"Yes, I can see that," Rupert smiled, swinging the door open a little bit more. It was irritating as hell, sure, the way Andrew idolised him, worshipped him, openly lusted after him, tripped over his own tongue when Rupert was anywhere near him, but it was still flattering, especially with him being so far removed from the spotlight. "I enquired as to whether there was something you needed my help with."

"What? No," Andrew hastened to answer. "No, I don't need anything. Well, my room doesn't have enough towels, I used them all up just now, after my shower, but if I want to have another one in the morning, then I'm gonna need more, but if I certainly wouldn't bother _you_ with something like that!" He stopped for half a second to take a breath, and Rupert was sort of impressed that he could just launch right back into his mad ramblings with what one would assume to be a horrific lack of oxygen.

"You're much too important to worry about towels, or, you know, my cable's out, and they won't let me in to the mini bar, cause I'm not 21 yet, and it's kind of warm in there, and I can't control the thermostat…"

"So, you're here because?" Rupert interrupted, waving his hand to try to get Andrew back on track.

"Oh! Yeah," Andrew said, blushing and feeling more than a little bit stupid. He couldn't help it. Anything he did or said would make him feel stupid around this guy that he so totally had the hots for, and he wanted to kick himself for being such an idiot, but he couldn't help it, and he sure as hell couldn't stay away. This was _Rupert Giles_! And he was going to take advantage of every opportunity he could get to spend time with him, to be near him.

"I was just… Just maybe… wondering if… you know, if you needed anything, or if there was anything I could do for you… or…" He paused and but his lip, looking down for a moment before continuing. "If maybe we could just hang out for a bit? Cause, you're like, my hero, and I just really want to be able to say that we hung out! Like… like guys, you know? And drink beer and watch the game… or… if there's a game on or something…"

Rupert stepped back from the doorway, holding the door open and nodding for Andrew to enter. This was just about the last thing he needed, but he thought it might make him look bad if he slammed the door in the kids face. For all he knew, there were cameras down the hall filming the kid's attempt to get a little face time with him. "I haven't got a lot of time," he warned. "I need to be up early for my flight, so I need to get some sleep soon, but if you want to talk for a little while, I suppose it wouldn't kill me for you come in for a while."

Andrew didn't give Rupert a chance to change his mind, give the invitation some sort of condition or other besides the time constraint, which Andrew thought he would be able to work his way around, provided he was entertaining enough, and he planned to be. He scooted past the older man, making sure to brush up against him, paused just as long as he thought he was able to without being caught out, to savour the feel of the man, to imagine what it would be like to touch him more thoroughly, and tried to cover a shiver as he moved past, standing behind him and watching him close the door.

"Why don't you take a seat?" Rupert asked when he turned around, and gestured to the plush, high-backed chair next to the one he'd been sitting in. 'I'm afraid all I can offer is water, at the moment, or soda, if you'd prefer, but beer is most decidedly off the menu."

"Water's good!" Andrew answered, chipper and annoying as ever, and crossed the room to sit down in the chair Rupert had indicated, and waited for the promised drink.

Rupert stopped by the mini fridge in his room and picked up two bottles of water, handing one to Andrew and twisting the cap off the other, taking a large swig before he sat down in his own chair. In truth, his reluctance to give the boy a proper drink had just as much to do with him not wanting any more alcohol at the moment as it did with Andrew not being of legal age.

He was feeling pretty good, currently, but he was a little groggy, a little happy, after all the wine he'd drunk, and anything more would just push what was left of his good judgement out the window, along with any outward image he might have of being calm cool and collected.

Not that he didn't think he could use another drink or twelve, now that the boy had tracked him down, seemed intent on having a heart to heart or some such. But water was better, he thought, for both of them.

***

"…And so, Jonathon said that I'd, like, be really good on the show, and I should totally try out, because there weren't enough cute gay guys, except for that one guy, a couple of years ago, and _wow_, he was really cute, but Jonathon said not as cute as me, and I think he might have a little bit of a crush on me, but I tried out anyway, and now I'm in the top two, and we got to meet _you_, and…"

Andrew stopped to breath and Rupert couldn't help but chuckle, though he tried to hide it. Andrew had been chewing his ear off for near an hour and a half, and despite his previous thoughts on the subject he'd gotten out his bottle of Scotch, though he'd only given the boy one half-glass.

"Yes, and fascinating as that is," Rupert told him, putting his glass down on the table between them, motioning for Andrew to do the same. "It's getting rather late. Perhaps you should be heading back to your own room?"

What he meant was, _please, for the love of God, get the hell out of my room with your ridiculous jabber_, but that would have been in poor taste, to say that out loud.

"Oh, sure, sorry," Andrew said, putting his empty glass down and standing up. "I just…"

"Just..?" Rupert asked, raising an amused eyebrow. This should be good, whatever excuse he came up with, to stick around a bit longer.

"Just thought that, you know… if there was anything else I could do for you…" Andrew hedged, batting his eyelashes in a grotesquely overt manner, and shuffling his feet nervously. He knew what he was getting at, and he knew Mr. Giles knew what he was getting at, so he tried to swallow his nerves and just get it out.

"I know you… you, like boys. I mean, men. Not _boys_, boys, like, young boys or anything," he quickly clarified, and tried to not feel stupid at Rupert's slight huff of amusement. "Cause, well, that song of yours? Centerfold? That Angel you were singing about was a guy, right?"

"Yes," Rupert answered simply, eyeing Andrew speculatively. "That was a long time ago." His relationship with Angel had been amazing, and Rupert made no secret of the fact that the other man being a nude model had been responsible for most of the attraction he felt.

"So, I was just thinking… well, you know I like you, and you must like me too, at least a little, or you wouldn't have let me in here, and…"

"And I think you've had about enough drink, and more than enough excitement for the night," Rupert told him, trying to deny the allegation of interest, though he couldn't quite kid himself that the boy wasn't at least a little bit appealing. He was cute, in a completely dorky sort of way, and the fact that he was clearly near enough in love with Rupert went a long way toward lowering the older man's resistance. Still… "You should really get back to your room."

"But I don't want to get back to my room!" Andrew protested, barely resisting stomping his foot. "I wanna… I thought maybe I could…"

"Andrew, I haven't got time to listen to you blather on. If you want to say something, dear Lord, go ahead and say it. If not, I'll be happy to see you to the door, and good luck with your career."

Andrew opened his mouth, closed it again, blinked, long and slow, and then as Rupert began to stand, he rushed to speak, wanting to get his thoughts out before it was too late. "I thought maybe we could have sex!"

"Excuse me?" Rupert asked, nearly choking on his Scotch. He knew Andrew was attracted to him, that much was obvious. But he hadn't expected the kid to be so forward with him.

"I've never, you know, done it before, but… but I want to." He took two cautious steps closer to his hero, stopping just in front of him, the older man still sitting on the chair. "I've been fantasising about this for so long, and I…" He dropped the floor, kneeling in front of the older man, hands resting on his knees. "I want to do this. I could, maybe, blow you? I've never done that either, but… I think I could be good at it."

"Andrew, boy, I really don't think you've thought this through…. Shit!!!" Rupert gripped the arms of his chair, trying not to make any movement that might be interpreted as encouraging as Andrew quickly pulled down the front of his pants and manhandled the tip of his flaccid cock into his mouth.

It started to harden pretty quickly.

"Andrew," Rupert said, hands gripping the younger man's shoulders tightly, pushing his back. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Giving you a blow job?" Andrew asked, making it a question. "Don't you like it?"

"Don't I…" Rupert repeated, trailing off, incredulous. "Of course I bloody like it, you half-wit! Who the hell doesn't like a blow job? I just…" He took a deep breath and let it out, slowly, making sure that Andrew was going to stay put. He was still kneeling in front of him, still incredibly tempting, mouth slightly parted, eyes hooded, pink tongue darting out to moisten his soft, young lips.

"You said you're not 21. How old _are_ you?"

"18," Andrew answered, not hesitating. He knew he was young, but 18 was still an adult, as far as the state of California was concerned, and he wanted Mr. Giles to know that. "I'm legal, if that's what you're worried about."

Actually, it hadn't been, but now that Andrew had mentioned it, he was relieved. The second the tip of his cock had disappeared down the boy's throat he hadn't cared about his age, hadn't cared about much, but had managed to stop him, barely, wanting to make sure that this was what he what he wanted. The last thing he needed was someone accusing him of sexual abuse.

He'd like to be able to say that he'd stop him for good. That finding the boy mind-numbingly dull and his voice being so grating that it hurt his teeth was enough to make him more than able to deny any advances, but… But. He was cute, Rupert couldn't deny that, and he wanted Rupert, and not a lot of people did these days. It Had been a while since he'd been with someone so young and sweet, and he mildly ashamed to admit that it didn't really matter to him that he didn't like the kid, even a little.

"Are you sure you want this?" Rupert asked, and the tiny little pout on Andrew's mouth, the wide innocent eyes, made him almost not care what the answer was.

Andrew nodded vehemently, almost vibrating off the floor with excitement. "Yeah, I don't think I've ever been so sure about wanting anything more in my life!"

"Good," Rupert said, voice low and even, comforting yet commanding. "Then open your mouth."

Andrew did, eagerly, and Rupert gripped the boys head tight in both hands, moved him forward slowly, deliberately, letting him take the time to digest exactly what was expected of him, and Rupert's semi-hard cock was enveloped once again in the wet heat of the younger man's mouth.

Rupert sighed, jerked, loosened his grip and Andrew took over, tongue working over the spongy head as the shaft hardened further. Rupert groaned and Andrew got more enthusiastic, sucking harder, licking longer stripes across the vein, as he rubbed his own erection against the older man's leg, horny and euphoric and desperate for friction, release.

It was almost overwhelming, giving his first blowjob, hell, touching his first dick that wasn't his own, and it belonged to Rupert Giles! Rupert Giles was fucking his mouth, making the hottest, sweetest sounds, pushing his hips forward, leaving small trails of his pre-cum on Andrew's tongue and teeth and lips.

And then suddenly he wasn't.

"Shit…" Rupert panted, grabbing Andrew by the shoulders and pushing him back again. He was getting close, and he didn't want this to be over too soon, not now that he'd really started to enjoy it. The kid wasn't particularly great at sucking dick, but nobody could ever be really bad at it either. Sticking your dick somewhere wet and warm was always enjoyable, and Andrew was incredibly enthusiastic, which just made it better.

"You've never… done this before?" he asked, cupping Andrew's face in the palm of his hand, thumb rubbing gently over the cheekbone.

"No," Andrew answered, shaking his head, heart plummeting. "Can you tell? Crap, sorry. I can do better, really. Please don't make me stop."

"Relax, boy," Rupert told him, smiling. "I'm not stopping. And it wasn't nearly as bad as I suspect you fear. I just want to double check that this is your first time. You've never had any kind of sex before?"

Andrew shook his head again.

"Perfect," Rupert almost purred, and slipped off the chair, turning Andrew around with both hands on his upper arms. "Just relax," he said, voice husky and rough in Andrew's ear as his hands went to the boy's pants and unfastened them, quickly, and worked them down his thighs.

Andrew jumped, and shouted, when he felt Mr. Giles' hand slip inside his pants and grab his dick, wrapping warm fingers around it to pull it out as his pants were pushed down and out of the way. "Oh, Oh, God!" he cried, hands frantically searching for something to grab, and coming up with the older man's wrists as he was pumped lazily, and gently pushed forward, bent over so that he was settled on all fours on the floor, Rupert behind him.

"I'm going to fuck you now, Andrew," he heard Rupert say, the sound and the words sending shivers down his spine. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes!" he shouted. "God, yes, please. Do it." He couldn't possibly have said how much he wanted it, couldn't have found words to express just how perfect this all was, how amazing it felt, but he was scared too, just a little. "Is it… is it gonna hurt?"

Rupert reached out a hand, warm and strong, rubbing the boy's back, offering comfort. "Yes," he answered. "Probably." He stood then, quickly walked to the washroom to pick up a bottle of hand lotion from the counter and came back, kneeling down again in his prior position. "I'll be as gentle as I can," he offered. "And I promise, you'll like it, despite the pain."

"Yeah… yeah, okay," Andrew nodded again, and then groaned as one moist hand closed over his cock again, fingers tickling his balls, and two slick fingers probed his entrance, pushing carefully inside.

Rupert didn't exactly take his time, wasn't really in the mood for it, but he figured the kid was sufficiently prepared when his fingers brushed across his prostate and he swore and keened and begged for Rupert to stuff him full of dick.

And Rupert did. He spared two seconds to slather his erection with the hand lotion and moved forward, placing the leaking tip against Andrew's pucker. He closed his eyes and held the boys hips still, then pushed forward, slowly, steadily, groaned as mild tremors shook them both as he slid in, bare.

And this was why he wanted to know if the kid had been a virgin. He didn't need protection to fuck somebody that couldn't be carrying any social diseases. Sure, the kid didn't know if he was clean or not, but _he_ knew he was, and when an 18 year old boy gets the chance to lose his virginity to his favourite rock star, Rupert knew from experience that he didn't often think to ask questions like that.

It had been a while since he'd been with someone this young, since he hadn't used a condom, and it was just as sweet, just as delectable as he remembered. It wasn't going to last, but that was okay, because it didn't seem as if the kid was going to be able to hold out for long, either.

He leaned forward, body draped over Andrew and licked the outside of his ear, tongue swirling around the dents and ridges, and he once again took the boy's dick in his hand, working it steadily and quickly, as he pistoned in and out of him, thrusts becoming more rapid, more forceful.

Andrew babbled. He wasn't sure exactly what he was saying, but it was probably something about how much he was enjoying himself. Mr. Giles was right; it had hurt, at first, but it wasn't all that bad, not when he considered that he was currently realising his biggest fantasy.

And Mr. Giles had been right about it being good, too. It had gotten better than good, really quickly, and the whole situation was so overwhelming that Andrew was helpless to do anything but try to keep his balance as he was hammered into, thick, hard cock brushing over his prostate with every stroke, and his own dick was stripped, fast and wonderful.

He couldn't hold back, didn't want to, just lost himself in the sensation, in the surrealism of the whole thing, and let himself be worked to a mind numbing orgasm on the sound of their mutual cries of pleasure, trying not to pass out with how good it all was.

Rupert emptied himself inside the hot, tightness of Andrew's no-longer-virgin asshole and pulled out immediately after, panting, and falling back into his chair, not wanting to crush him with the weight of his imminent collapse. He recovered his breath while Andrew did the same, still on the floor, still on all fours, and Rupert watched his spunk dribble out of the boy's hole. Damn, but he looked pretty like that. For the first time, Rupert could sort of see what so many thousands of people saw in him.

After nearly a minute Rupert stood, taking three steps toward the boy on the floor, offering his hand. Andrew took it, and Rupert helped him up, kissed him on the forehead as he pulled up his pants for him, stuffing his sticky, flaccid cock back into them and fastening them up.

"That was… marvellous," Rupert said against Andrew's head, smiling.

"Yeah," Andrew agreed, smiling back. "Yeah, it was… really, really good. Ow!" he complained a second later when Rupert pulled back and he tried to take a step to follow. "I'm kinda sore."

Rupert laughed, a soft, honest laugh, not meant to make fun, and took Andrew's head into his hand, tilting it slightly, looking into his eyes. "Yes, I don't doubt it. It'll pass." He leant forward and kissed him, once, closed-mouthed and chaste, and his smile deepened at the look of pure infatuation and wonder on Andrew's face.

"It's late," Rupert told him.

"Yeah," Andrew agreed, still grinning like a fool and traced two fingers over his lips, the lips that Rupert Giles had just kissed.

Rupert chuckled and put a hand on Andrew's back, walking him to the door. He opened it and stepped back, motioning for Andrew to go through, and after only a few seconds of blank, adoring stares from the boy, Rupert cleared his throat and Andrew seemed to snap out of it, blushing and looking down.

"Right, sorry," he mumbled. "I… thanks." He turned quickly and walked through the doorway, pausing for a moment, trying to think of something brilliant or funny or sexy to say, but of course came up blank, and kept going.

"Andrew," Rupert called out after he'd taken a few steps, and when the boy turned, looking expectant, Rupert cocked his head and offered a tight smile. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Andrew said again, and really that covered it. He was thankful. Rupert Giles had given him something incredibly special today, so many special things, and as he turned and walked down the hall, toward his own room, he knew he was going to remember every single detail of this day for a very long.

END


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